It's been 4 weeks since I last spoke to MD. 672 hours. 690 hours since we broke up. In spite of recent posts, I don't hate him. I am angry, and am trying to remain angry. When it comes to negative emotions, I much prefer anger to sadness. Anger doesn't incapacitate as much as sadness does. And anger's easier to burn off as well.

And I miss him a lot. It's been so tempting to text him just to tell him that, but, so far, I've managed to refrain. It usually hits me towards the end of the day, and I stop myself by telling myself not to bother him at work, or that he's most likely asleep and that there's no point in torturing myself by wondering why he hasn't replied if he's not in a position to respond.

And, damn it, I don't want to be the one to break first.

We have texted, but mostly just over administrative matters to do with events we'd bought tickets for. I've ignored any of his attempts at making conversation and just laid the facts down, not just to let him know in no uncertain terms that I meant what I said when I told him I didn't want to see him after we broke up, but also to limit the damage I can do. The less words said, the better. The less likely I am to break down, the less likely I am to lash out.

But I really, really miss him. There're times when what we had, and what I've lost just pops into my head, and I just cannot think about it because thinking about it in any measure threatens to overwhelm me completely. When I find myself near a place where I might run into him, I get a little panicky in spite of how large this city is.

Baby steps, girl, baby steps.

One month down, just a few more to go.